Love is the Best Medicine of All
by Irie Yurika
Summary: Three year old Bra is sick and poor Vegeta is the one to take care of her. Another family 'fic. R&R!


Love is the Best Medicine of All  
  
Author's Note:  
Hello again. I really should stop this you know? This is my third fanfic I've written today! But I've got nothing to do and I don't hear back from a job I applied for until next Monday...so I'm gonna spend my time writing fanfics.  
  
Sigh. Yet ANOTHER Vegeta family 'fic. I really should be working on the Party at Capsule Corp... but I dunno...it seems kind of boring! Wah. I'm my harshest critic.  
  
Read and review guys thanks!  
  
  
  
"Hey dad," Trunks said, popping his head into the now normalized gravity room. Vegeta had been training hard (but what else is new?) and had just turned off the machine.   
"What?" asked Vegeta, walking out of the room with a towel draped over his shoulder.  
"You'd better come look at Bra," Trunks answered. "She doesn't look too good."  
Typical, Vegeta thought. She had to get sick while Bulma and her parents were away at some stupid convention. But he followed Trunks to Bra's nursery, where his usually hyper daughter was lying so unnaturally still on her bed.  
Vegeta placed his hand on Bra's forehead...very warm. Her faced was flushed, and she was sweating in torrents. He turned to Trunks.  
"How long has she been like this?"  
"Since mom and Gram and Gramps left," Trunks replied, looking at his sister. "Mom gave her some medicine and she seemed better, but I guess she's getting worse."  
They both looked down at the three year old toddler, whimpering fitfully in her sleep. Bulma should've told Vegeta that Bra was sick, but she was in a hurry and didn't have time to get down to the gravity room. She had told Trunks to tell him when he got out, because Bra just had a tiny little fever.   
"Trunks," said Vegeta. "Beep in for that doctor." Trunks nodded and shot off. Vegeta tried to wake up Bra by shaking her lightly.  
"Bra," he said. "Bra, wake up."  
She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily. "Papa," she croaked. "I don't feel too good."  
Vegeta nodded. He went to the armoir and pulled out a fresh change of pajamas; the one Bra was wearing was sticky with sweat.   
"Come on Bra," he said. "Let's change your pajamas, ok?" He sat her up, and while he was changing her, she leaned her warm cheek against his neck. "All done." He tried to lay her back on the bed, but she clung to his neck.   
"Are you going away, Papa?" she murmured sleepily.   
"No, I'm not going away. Get back in your bed, Bra."   
Bra dutifully slipped under the covers again, while Vegeta rummaged through the medicine cabinet for a thermometer.  
"Dad," Trunks said, running back. "The doc says he'll be here in about ten minutes. Meanwhile, he said to wipe her face with a cool, wet cloth." Trunks ran to the bathroom for a basin and a towel.   
Vegeta slipped the thermometer under Bra's tongue and waited. Trunks brought the basin and towel, and set it on the nightstand. Carefully, Vegeta wet the towel, squeezed it, and patted Bra's hot face with it.  
He then removed the thermometer and looked at the number. 103 degrees! No wonder she was sweating, he thought. He dabbed at her face some more with the towel. Bra kept whimpering and tried to kick off the covers.   
There was a knock at the door. It was Dr. Depato, the unusually cheery family doctor.   
"What's seems to be the problem today, eh?" he said. He then looked over at Bra. "Ah, the youngest of them has a little fever eh?"  
Vegeta and Trunks watched while Dr. Depato took her temperature (103 still), checked her heartbeat, looked into her ears, her throat and her eyes.   
"It looks like a nice case of strep throat coupled with an ear infection," he concluded. He took out a capsule out of his bag and expanded it. From the box, he took out various medicine bottles.  
"Ok, I want you to give her this," he handed Vegeta a green bottle, "Every six hours." Then he handed him a red bottle, "This is to lower her fever, every four hours." And finally, "And give her this," a small blue bottle with a dropper, "Four drops in both ears, every six hours." He then shrank the box and placed the capsule back in the bag. "You can start giving her the medicine after she has something to eat and drink. Make sure she has plenty of fluids. Beep me if things get worse. Good day!"   
Vegeta had gotten one of the kitchen robots to prepare a tray of soup and juice for his daughter. When the robot brought it up, Bra had fallen asleep.   
He didn't know whether he should wake her and feed her, or let her rest. He decided eat and drink first, then medicine, THEN rest.  
"Bra, wake up."  
"No, Papa not hungry."  
"Bra, if you don't eat, you're not gonna get better," said Trunks. "And Dad's gonna get mad, too." Bra didn't like to see her darling Papa getting mad so she sat up and reluctantly took the spoonful of soup Vegeta was holding out. Then another, then another, until the soup was about half gone.  
Then Vegeta held out the cup of juice. She drank that, too. Then finally it was time for the medicine. Bra hated any type of medicine.  
"No Papa I feel better no medicine."  
Vegeta tried to get her to open her mouth, but they were clamped together. "Bra," Vegeta said, very sternly. "If you don't take your medicine, then I will be angry. Then your mother will be angry. And you know what happens when your mother's angry...right?"  
Bra obediently opened her mouth.  
"Good girl." He popped in the two pills and she took a huge swallow of juice along with it. Then he administered the ear drops.   
"Can I sleep now Papa?" she asked, snuggling into her covers.   
"Yeah, you can sleep," he answered.  
"Read me a 'tory."  
Trunks couldn't help it. He snickered behind his hand. He just couldn't imagine his father reading a story book to his sister, no matter how sick she happened to be.   
"Don't you have homework to do?" Vegeta scowled.  
"No, it's summer break Dad," he replied, still grinning. "Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world. So go on and tell her a story."  
"What makes you think I'm going to tell her a story?"  
"Her." Vegeta turned back to his daughter. He lower lip was wobbling and fast tears were coming into her eyes.  
"Oh no," Vegeta moaned. "Bra, don't start this. You need to sleep."  
"I want a story Papa I really do please?"  
Sniffle, sniffle. Bra was looking at him through bright, blue eyes, enlarged by a mass onslaught of tears.  
"Oh all right! Just don't bawl." Bra immediately brushed away her tears and smiled expectantly at her father.  
Trunks was beside himself. Actually, he was rolling on the floor, clutching his ribs, laughing his pale head off.  
"What do you want?" asked Vegeta grumpily.  
"Go get the Pink Fairy Book in the shelf, Papa."  
"The Pink...I'M NOT GOING TO READ YOU A FAIRY TALE!"  
"But Dad," Trunks said, taking down the pink covered book and handing it to his father. "You can't expect her to want some violent story with lots of murders in it, right?"   
Vegeta gave Trunks a "you'renothelpingme" look.   
Trunks return the "you'renothelpingme" look with a "IknowI'mnothelpingyouthat'sthewholepoint" look.  
So, unable to win against two children, flipped through the book to find the least frilly story.  
"Papa," said Bra.  
"What now?"  
"Use voices."  
"USE WHAT?"  
"Voices, dad, voices. You know, like a squeaky voice for a mouse, a deep voice for a toad, things like that." Then he left the room.  
"Bra, I will not read this stupid story to you using voices."  
"But Papa..." Bra hiccuped. Tears started coming back into her eyes. "Mama always reads to me using voices..."  
And of course, he couldn't win. Reluctantly, he started to read a story about some stupid girls using a variety of odd voices.  
"Higher Papa, the Fairy Queen doesn't sound like that."  
Finally, three and a half stories later, Bra had fallen asleep.   
  
"I can't believe that little cold turned into strep throat!" Bulma cried, holding Bra in her arms. She and her parents had just returned from the convention, about five days later.  
"There are a lot of things you wouldn't believe, Mom," Trunks snickered.   
"Where's your father?" Bulma asked, looking around.  
"He's sick."  
"He's sick? With what?"  
"What else? Strep throat."  
  
Yes, Vegeta was one sick little puppy. He couldn't even get up from his own bed.   
"Well, don't you look healthy," Bulma said from the doorway.  
"Shut up and get me some water," Vegeta croaked.  
"Papa!" cried Bra, rushing in with a tray loaded with things that RESEMBLED food. "I've made you a sick tray!"  
Oh no, Vegeta thought. Not only did she give me strep throat, but she's going to poison me, too? After all that I've done for her?  
"Look, how sweet!" Bulma cried. She looked at the tray. Burnt toast, some hot brown water thing with chunks of...stuff in it, a glass of orange and something murky at the bottom...and next to it all...the Pink Fairy Book.  
"I'll read you a 'tory like you read to me, Papa!" she beamed.   
"You can't read, Bra," Vegeta managed to wheeze.  
"Dun worry Papa," she said smiling widely. "I rememberized the 'tories you read me!"  
Bulma stared. "You read her stories? From the Pink Fairy Book?"  
Vegeta pretended to be asleep.  
Bulma groaned. "I can't believe I missed that!" Trunks, who had shown up all of a sudden next to the bed, said,  
"No Mom, you didn't," he said, evilly. "I've got it alllllllll on tape."  
  
The end! R & R k? Thanks!   
  
  



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